If Love Be Love
by MelissaMargaret
Summary: How does love move with such fluidity that nothing more is needed than a single touch to ignite the passion of intimacy… A series of one-shots offering a look into the intimate side of an everlasting love. Carlisle/Esme. Canon.
1. When the Fight is Over

Currently this is a one-shot, but I am leaving it open to future postings as well.

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**For Amy, the beautiful birthday girl.**

**(Even though this is woefully belated.)**

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Aldous Huxley once said every man's memory is his private literature.

If that was true I held a virtual library in my endless memory. Every experience I had was carefully cataloged in my consciousness, ready to be pulled to the forefront of my mind at a moment's notice.

Over the course of my existence one thing I have discovered is that many of our most potent and meaningful memories are often triggered by the simplest of things.

The sound of fabric ripping as I prepared the bandages. The sound of my patients' shallow breaths as he struggled to contain his screams. The drip of the morphine that was being burned off far too quickly by the heat of the body beneath my hands.

It was a testament to the severity of Jacob's injuries that I was even here – in the small cabin owned by Billy Black, at the heart of the Quileute reservation.

It was a novel experience - a vampire healing a werewolf.

And yet, I had been healing people for decades. The experience itself was nothing if not familiar; however, the novelty of this time extended far beyond the differences present in this one patient.

The memories that Jacob's condition evoked made all the difference in setting this experience apart from all the others.

The broken ribs and deep contusions which marred the young man's flesh brought to life another night, from ninety years ago when I had treated a young woman in Ashland whose husband claimed she had taken a fall down the stairs. The pattern of her injuries and the hollow, dead look in her eyes told me something entirely different.

When I returned home that morning Esme had followed me to the edge of Lake Superior and made me see every way that I could never have avoided what happened and what I had to do as a result of the legal restraints imposed on me.

As a physician I took an oath to do no harm. Was turning a blind eye to blatant abuse any different than directly inflicting harm?

I had long since accepted the guilt I felt for turning Esme when her own desire to escape the pain inflicted by her own abuse drove her to end her life. I knew her memories of that life would fade with time, but I felt she would not forget the pain. She told me that I had worried needlessly and that in changing her I gave her new things to live for. As a result of her own experiences Esme made me see that although the law required me to turn my young patient back over to an abusive husband, perhaps my gentle treatment of her would provide the catalyst she needed to see that not all men are evil; that there is good in the world and perhaps she would find her own happy ending one day.

I knew it was an incredibly long shot, but weren't most things in life? I saw clearly that morning that sometimes no matter what we do we will second guess our decisions. It is a simple fact of life and apparently afterlife. Hearing Esme say the words that she did not blame me for anything that happened to her and that she was grateful to me for saving her, as she put it, changed my every perception of the woman I was to spend my life with.

It was in the crisp blue of that April morning that I truly saw Esme for the first time. She was no longer my young sixteen year old patient. She was a woman who had been to hell and back and fought daily to overcome the demons that should never have befallen her. I could see my true motivations for changing her, laid out before me with crystal clarity. Even at sixteen her presence had soothed my soul in a way I had never experienced before. She was my balance in every way possible, and I could not live without her.

That was the day I realized I loved her.

I often thought of that morning and not simply in the context of realizing my love for Esme. The rightness of my actions concerning the young woman I had treated continued to haunt me. The laws concerning spousal abuse have changed drastically since then, meaning I was never put in the same position today, but every once in awhile the pattern of a patient's injuries took me back to that night.

Jacob Black was one of those patients.

There had been so much loss tonight. Although there was no loss of life on the side of my family and the wolves, the entire army Victoria had assembled was eradicated. Loss of life was still a loss, no matter the circumstances. I believed the young girl when she said Riley had lied to them. They had no idea what they were being used for.

Thinking of the young girl we had tried to save caused me to shudder. The memory of my wife walking away from me to stand between our son and a wild newborn was not a memory I would be able to catalog away for quite some time. As we stood there in the field, her back turned to someone who could easily kill her every memory I had with my Esme ran through the back of my mind ending with that April morning I knew I loved her.

In many ways this night was just as important to my family's history as that morning.

The willingness of the wolves to not only stand at our sides but to allow me to be close enough to treat their injuries made it clear how far we had come in our alliance.

Would this truce between us hold?

I had to believe it was possible

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The sound of soft voices reverberated through the house when I walked in. Jasper and Esme were seated on the stairs discussing what had occurred in the field. I leaned against the wall and smiled at Jasper's display of affection as he rose from the step, placed a kiss on his mothers' cheek and disappeared to the second floor.

Esme leaned her head back against the wall, seemingly unaware of my presence although I knew that couldn't be farther from the truth.

"Are you going to stand there all night staring at me, or are you going to come give me a kiss?"

I was already sweeping her off the step before she finished speaking. I pressed my lips to hers gently, for the first time since leaving for the field. She took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as I threaded my hand into her hair and lifter her into the air. I carried her bridal style to our bedroom where I gently set her on our bed.

"How's Jacob?"

I placed my forehead to hers and took an unnecessary breath. "He'll be fine. The morphine burns off incredibly fast so I'll have to go back in a couple hours to replace the drip and check on the progress of his healing. His body is healing itself though. We can't ask for more than that."

"He did an amazingly brave thing," she said.

"Yes," I agreed. "Quite similar to the amazingly brave thing you did."

"How much of our talk did you hear?"

"Enough. He's right you know. You terrified me by turning your back on a newborn."

She sighed as she crossed the room and began to shed her clothes. I pulled my own shirt off, finding it refreshing beyond words to remove the clothes I dispatched wild newborns in.

"You know why I did it," she said from her seat at the vanity where she was brushing the tangles out of her hair.

"Yes," I said, moving to stand behind her. I leaned down and wrapped my arms around her. I studied our reflection in the mirror. Two perfect halves of a whole. We were perfect in our individual imperfections which balanced to create our own unique form of perfection.

"Do you know what my favorite thing about you is?"

She smirked as I ran my hand down her side and kissed her temple.

"I can guess."

"It's your fiercely protective instinct for all beings, in and out of our family and you endless capacity for love. Most covens would regard the extension of protection to those outside the coven as a weakness. You, my dear wife, reveal it to be a strength."

"I could not bear for her to be ripped apart when she posed no real threat. It wasn't right, and although I understand where the Volturi are coming from I wouldn't have been able to live with myself I hadn't done my best to protect her."

"Were you truly as frightened as Jasper claims," she added, brushing the back of one hand over my cheek.

"You expect me not to be worried when the woman I love willingly puts herself in mortal danger?"

"I'm alive, Carlisle. We're all alive."

That one simple statement, falling from my wife's perfect lips, did more to ease my mind than anything else ever could. I felt the weight of weeks worth of worry lift free from my shoulders as the reality sank in that it was over. I could touch my wife, I could talk to my children, I could continue patching up Bella's never-ending injuries. We were all still alive.

She disentangled herself from my arms and stood, turning to face me. One soft hand ran down my jaw and I knew we were on the same page as to how to spend the time I had until I needed to be back on the reservation.

She took my hand and led me to the bed, pulling me down on top of her so she could whisper in my ear. "Love me, Carlisle. Show me that we're still here."

I pushed her back gently so she was nestled against the pillows. After the events of the last forty-eight hours I planned to rush nothing.

Every movement was slow, every touch savored as I finished disrobing us and gently slid into her. I wanted to prolong this night as long as possible. As she rolled us over and sank down on my length the rest of the world was forgotten. There was nothing beyond the boundary of our bed. Nothing mattered except the beautiful woman on top of me and the fact we were both still here to share this.

Even for the slow pace she managed to let herself go in a way she only did when we were alone, causing my movements became more frantic as I sought to help my wife come. Her own orgasm, moments later, triggered mine, and as I tucked her under my arm and stroked her hair I felt more peaceful than I had in months.

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"Carlisle?"

"Yes, gorgeous?"

She lazily hitched one leg over mine and pulled me in for a kiss. We had been lying in bed together for the several hours, sharing slow kisses and touches. If we were human we would likely be asleep.

"You should go."

I stroked her cheek. "I know."

My work had pulled me away from Esme's embrace countless times before, but somehow this time seemed more poignant. I had allowed myself to lose all connection to the world outside of the bond I shared with my wife, and now that reality was setting back in it was more than a little disconcerting.

I found myself once again thinking of all that had been gained and all that had been sacrificed in the last day, and as I passed a church on my way to the reservation I sent a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens for the safety of my family and the wolves and for the opportunity to create new memories with all of them.


	2. Perfect Sunshine

_I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. The title of this story belongs to Gene Roddenberry and Paramount. _

_Thank you to Esme Mom Cullen for the beta work._

_This is a little different then most of my writing in that it is written in present tense._

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She's perfect.

Perfect like sunshine.

The sun streaming through the windows dances in fine lines over the skin on her shoulders. It forges a path of glittering light down her body and she couldn't look more perfect if she tried.

She came in hours ago, took the book I was reading out of my hand, let it fall to the floor, and kissed me till I forgot about it.

Somehow our blankets have also made their way to the floor. Esme always insists upon dressing our bed in far more sheets and blankets than anyone would find necessary, but I don't mind. She likes it. I'll indulge her desire for mass amounts of bedding until the end of time.

There's a purple sweater draped over the end of the bed and it looks perfect there – a splash of color against the white sheets. My wife looks even more perfect. She's marble and caramel and sunshine, spread out over our mattress, wrapped in our sheets – our sheets that smell like us and hold the memory of hours of joy shared between them. She looks at me with her honey colored eyes and I can see the love and trust radiated from them - piercing my very being, causing my heart to submit to her every whim.

I can remember the first time we did this as if it were mere moments ago. The mind of a vampire never loses things, especially things which never desire to be lost. My golden sunshine wife had trembled. The fear of her past eclipsed her hope for our future as we journeyed to a bed that held much less coverings than this one. She promised that she did not fear me – that it was the memories that caused her unease. I laid a soft kiss to her shoulder, told her I loved her and that we did not have to go any farther then she wished. She gave me a sad smile and asked me to destroy her past and give her a future.

I did. One long embrace after another until the sun came up and went back down again and then came up for a second time.

As I look at her now, a soft, happy smile gracing her perfect features as she lies wrapped in silk sheets, I see just how far we've come, both separately and together. We've dealt with our demons, her past and my loneliness, and have come together to live out eternity as two perfect halves of a whole, wrapped in white silk sheets on a bed that is probably half a foot too tall on a sunny Thursday afternoon.

The bed was her idea too. A massive piece of solid cherry, it is the kind of bed you see in catalogs with a small step-ladder next to them. Esme didn't want the ladder. She has to hop to get on the bed. It's adorable and perfect and a small piece of sunshine in my day to watch her do it.

There are clothes all over the floor. Her skirt lays neatly on top of my pants. They look like they were made to be on the floor together and maybe they were; just as their owners were made to be on this bed together. There is a sea of white and cream and red on the floor at the base of the bed where the blankets were pushed off - ripples of color against the maple hardwood. Somehow they look right too. The room is just as it should be. A splash of organized chaos - everything fell where it ought have and the world is right because I was able to share this sunny afternoon with my wife.

I should pick up my book and resume reading. Esme likes to curl into my side when I read. She claims I am most at peace when I'm reading. I think I am at peace because she is beside me. I look once more to the edge of the bed. The book found its way into the pile of sheets and blankets. It is nestled atop a hand-knitted throw blanket a nurse in Ashland made for Esme shortly before we left. That blanket goes everywhere with us. It is my wife's last remaining tie to the place that brought us together. I love it too.

I look back at Esme's serene expression and it amazes me that there is such peace after hours of passion that builds like a storm, overtaking us both until there is no world outside of our embrace. My wife is nothing if not passionate and she likes her love slow but hard. What my Esme likes I give her. She has a way of building our momentum until there is no where left to go and we both explode in a fury of movement caused by our never ending need for one another.

I can hardly describe how that fiercely passionate creature manages to turn back into the soft, gentle woman at my side, but her content expression and light smile tell me all I need to know. It is her silent thank you - her way of letting me know all that I saved her from and all that I continue to give her in our eternity together. Every time she pulls me inside of her I can feel the silent thanks pouring out of her. It shows in the way she sighs my name and the way she grips my hips with the back of her ankles, silently begging me for more. That's all she ever wants – more of me, and that is something I will never be able to thank her enough for.

There is a glint of light to my left and her bracelet is lying on top of my shirt. It is the outward symbol of her attachment to our family, though the real ties run much deeper. There would be no Cullen family if not for my Esme. We would be nothing more than a larger than average coven of vampires if not for her love binding us together, making us a solid unit. My ring, the metallic symbol of my unending love for her, remains on my finger. There is an impression of it against her back from where I held her too tight. It's alright. She likes it when I hold on to her like I'm desperate for her. She knows I am.

There are birds chirping outside our window – doves from the sound of it. Her soft, happy sigh tells me she hears them too. Esme loves doves. They have always been her favorite birds. I think it's because they are gentle and beautiful like her. She says it's because they represent new beginnings like the one I gave her. I think we're both right.

I look down at her and she reaches up to tuck a lock of my hair back into its place. It is an out of place gesture in this ocean of chaos we have created. Esme loves the way my hair falls out of place when we make love. The knowledge that only she ever sees me in this way spurs her to help it along all she can by running her fingers through it, pulling on it, and all other manner of things she can think of to cause disorder to my otherwise pristine appearance. I look at her with wide, questioning eyes, but she simply smiles and moves closer to me. She might want me again; she might simply to lie together awhile longer. The not knowing is just as much fun as the knowing.

I lean down and place a kiss on her forehead. Just as I pull away a soft hand finds its way to my hip and runs along the seam of my legs until it rests in the middle. In a flurry of movement I am inside her again. No words are ever needed between us for this. One look, one touch says more than any words ever could. Nearly a century of marriage provides its own kind of mind reading. I know my wife's reactions better than I know my own and as I slide in and out of her I know this was what she wanted – what she will always want.

Her nails scrape down my back as I drive us higher and it's perfect. My Esme can mark me in any way she chooses and I will only ever beg for more. The evidence of my love is already present on her skin in the marks made by my ring. It is only fair that mine match hers.

There would be a fine sheen of sweat over my wife's body if she were human, but I think the dusting of glittering diamond-like beads of light suits her more. It is as if they radiate out from somewhere inside her where her love for me resides. They become the evidence of our love.

She lets out a soft scream as I roll us over so that she is above me. She leans down across my chest and her hair cascades down around us as I bring her mouth to mine. She kisses me with an intensity not many would think her capable of. No one knows my Esme like I do. There is no softness in our movements this time - only pure un-adulterated need. I hear a soft flutter as her sweater falls off the end of the bed. As our lovemaking is now wonderfully chaotic so is the scene on the floor of our room. Esme laughs as she hears it too, and then her laugh turns into a moan as I skim my teeth along the skin of her collarbone.

She's close now. So close I can feel her constricting her own muscles searching for release. I hasten my own movements as the world begins to erupt in a sea of color behind my eyes. It is never-ending blues and reds and yellows like the perfect sunshine that is my wife. It only ever ends as us when we do this and when the chaos is over and the world rights itself we are all that remains.

There is a soft "no" of protest as I remove myself from the bed and pick up my discarded copy of _Paradise Lost. _I smile as I return to my own version of paradise at my wife's side. She tucks herself into my side and lays her head on my lap. We are even more a mess in our tangle of silk then we were before but it's perfect.

We lie together till the sun sinks down beyond the trees and there are no longer beads of light dancing across my wife's marble skin. It doesn't matter. If the sun never came up again it wouldn't bother either of us.

After awhile she makes her way to the foot of the bed and pulls the large red comforter around herself before settling back beside me. She's not cold, but it looks amazing wrapped around her pale form.

She is perfect sunshine, wrapped in a veneer of red silk. She pushes the edge of the blanket out until it engulfs me too and I could stay this way forever - under an ocean of red, engulfed in sunshine.

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_Reviews are loved!_


	3. Moonlit Dreams

_This is the opposite of perfect sunshine._

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"_A dreamer is one who can only find his way by __moonlight__, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."_

_~ Oscar Wilde_

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My husband's eyes are black as night.

As black as the cliff on which we sit, overlooking the frigid waters of the Alaskan coast.

W first found this spot while living near Hoquiam. How long ago that was and yet this place has not aged a day – we have not either.

I think that's why we love it here. It is quiet, serene and never changing. This place is a worldly personification of our love and so we cherish it deeply.

There is nothing but the sound of water lapping against the shore beneath us and the quiet hum of the wind blowing through the pine trees. There are snowcapped peaks in the distance but it is too early for a true snowfall.

This place is made of dreams, encased in moonlight, and meant to provide refuge to the weary traveler, though no human would dare to come this way. The cliffs are far too steep and the water far too frigid. Only the whales provide company here. We like their silent companionship.

Carlisle stands on the precipice and I wonder if perhaps I should be concerned. I know he will not fall, yet I often wonder what it feels like to worry over such things. Such trivial human matters that never plague us, yet they feel necessary; as though it is demanded of me to fret over my husband's physical safety.

He turns and looks at me in my spot of safety, nestled against a fallen tree, and I see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He takes my hand without a word and lifts me to stand at his side. With no question he leads us away from the trees and toward the edge of the cliff. He knows he need not speak. I will follow Carlisle to the ends of the earth without a second thought.

The path is thin and dark, winding down the cliff face like a ribbon of sand carving its way through the green. In all the times we have been here this was the first in which we journeyed this way. Holding my husband's hand as we make our way down the moonlit ribbon of sand it feels right to finally be doing this. The end of the path opens up to a large expanse of greens and yellows and purples. All manner of small wildflowers dot the landscape before fading into the white sand of the small beach on which nothing but a small piece of driftwood sits.

"Why have we never been down here," I whisper in a state of wonder. The soft waves of water lap against the shore keeping time with the rhythm of Carlisle's thumb stroking my hand.

He looks at me and smiles radiantly, knowing he doesn't have to answer. I wasn't really asking him. He pulls me into the circle of his arms and tells me everything words cannot say with his kiss. It is slow but powerful; soft but hard. It is a contradiction in every way, just as we are.

This place has a magnetic pull – drawing people not only to its quiet refuge, but to each other as well, and before I know it I am swept up by my husband's arms and my legs wrap themselves around his waist. His lips blaze a trail of fire down my neck and across my shoulder and I am too lost to the sensation to realize my back has hit the cold, hard cliff face.

As my back makes contact with the rock he removes his hands from their place on my hips to steady himself against the rock with them. He knows I can hold myself up. He balances himself with one hand and used the other to run a soft trail down my body, making me shudder as he goes. I feel his mouth turn up in a smile where it rests against my shoulder. It still amazes him that I react to his touch so strongly. I doubt he'll ever overcome his sense of awe at it - or his awe at the fact he is allowed to touch me.

His deep black eyes gaze into mine and there is an intensity there that causes my breath to catch in my throat. His eyes are hungry as they search mine for permission he knows he already has. His free hand runs up and down my side underneath my shirt and the gleam in his eyes and small smirk on his lips tells me he is enjoying this little game of torture Esme far too much.

I sigh his name against his lips as I pull him in for a slow, languid kiss that lingers as he pulls back to touch his forehead to my own.

"I love you Esme Anne Cullen."

The giddiness and wonder at hearing his last name after my first and middle names never wears off. The way my breath catches and I look away almost as if I would be blushing never fails to make me feel like a school girl scribbling her name with her crushes all over a notebook. That my husband makes me feel this way after all this time is nothing short of a miracle.

His voice is full of reverent wonder even in its perpetual softness every time he says my name and I am flooded with his own sense of wonder at the miracle of our names being joined forever. This is the true symbol of our eternal bond. The simple act of taking his name as my own solidifies our love far more than any piece of metal could.

He untangles my legs from his waist and lets me slide to the ground but not before catching the fleeting look of rejection as it passes over my features. With a small smile and kiss to the back of my hand he leads me away from the cliff face and down a smaller path that leads away from the beach and up a small incline. I find myself on a small cliff with the larger one looming behind it and a perfect view of the whole cove. The snow-capped mountains are ominous in their sheer size and the water is as serene and peaceful as ever.

Carlisle leads me to the edge and sits with his legs over the side of the small precipice. He gestures for me to do the same and I tuck myself into his side and marvel over the beauty of this place. I wonder, though, what could be so important that my husband interrupted our intimate moment on the sandy beach.

"Carlisle," I whisper.

He puts a finger to his lips and I cannot help the hurt I feel at being shushed. An indigent sigh escapes me as I roughly push his arm off me and stare out to the entrance to the cove where the rushing waters of the Pacific create small rapids as they meet the tranquil waters found in this place of peace.

I hear them before I see them, moving underneath the water in a dance well practiced and always encouraged by this place. I look at my husband and see a smile playing on his lips and a teasing glint in his eyes.

This is why he brought me up here.

I move back into the circle of his arms and he presses his lips to my temple just as one of the whales moves gracefully to the surface.

"We are not disturbing them up here," he whispered in my ear. I involuntarily shudder at the intimacy of the action and I feel him smile against my ear as he places a kiss just below it.

"They were afraid of us," I whisper as the second whale makes it presence known above the surface.

"Yes."

The whales now moved fluidly beneath the surface, communicating with each other through their movements and I found myself desiring the same form of communication.

I run my hand up my husband's leg as his kisses travel down the column of my neck and dust across my shoulder.

"Carlisle," I breathe.

"Hmm," he hums as he gently lays me down across the black rock of the cliff.

"Love me," I gasp as his teeth graze my collarbone followed by his tongue.

He lifts his head and gazes into my eyes with those impossibly onyx orbs.

"Always."

He disrobes both of us with practiced ease and with not even a moment's hesitation my husband is inside me. He brings his mouth to mine and captures my every moan with it as we begin to move together. He purrs softly as I bring my legs up to wrap around his waist, pushing him deeper inside me. His pace quickens as I silently urge him on with rough kisses and gentle touches.

I run my hands down his sides, silently urging him to slow down. We have our own silent methods of communication, designed by decades of affection and a need to speak without speaking in these most intimate moments when words might break the spell we set on each other. I want to savor this for as long as possible and though I know my husband needs no recovery time I still wish to draw this one moment out for as long as possible.

Our coupling this afternoon in our home was rushed and frantic, spurred on by rare sunshine and even rarer time alone.

This place and the moonlight itself beg for a slower love. Time seems suspended here and so our love should be drawn out, slow and languid as the wind that softly blows across the water and the whales moving beneath the surface. If they are not in a rush why should I be?

Carlisle sets a steadier pace and smiles down at me and my use of silent communication.

He whispers the word love against my lips before sliding his lips over mine in the gentlest of kisses. Raw passion bleeds through his lips even for all his efforts at softness. I begin to purr as I find us wandering closer and closer to the edge. We will fall off soon and no other sound could possibly be appropriate for this place.

As my husband's movements push me higher and higher the world exploded behind my eyes in brilliant shards of sapphire and lavender. All the colors of this little cove are represented in the climax of our love and as we come down from our high Carlisle pulls me back to the edge of the cliff and we watch as the whale enjoy their own dance in celebration of this place we have all found.

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_Reviews are much loved!_


	4. An Ocean of Creme

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners. The author of this story in no way profits from its use or distribution._

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_Esme_

The heavy rain pelted the large plate glass window with icy droplets as I completed the monotonous task of folding a sea of blue shirts. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of them against the large red comforter. The color contrast was not a pleasant one. I picked up the lone black shirt off the pile and set it down on the bed. A better color combination, but still not perfect. I shrugged out of the gray t-shirt I was wearing, and slipped the black button-down over my shoulders. Carlisle would be home from work in less than an hour, and he loved seeing me in his clothes. This would be a nice little surprise for him.

Just as I walked out of the closet from putting the last of the clothes away, Alice bounced into the room carrying a massive plastic bag and wearing one of the largest grins I had ever seen on her small face. She dropped the bag on the bed, and began unzipping it without saying a word. I stood in shock as she pulled a beautiful solid crème silk comforter from the bag. My mouth fell open as her grin widened, and her eyes danced with excitement.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?"

"Alice is that…"

"Yes, it's the bedding you've been daydreaming about for weeks. I was getting annoyed with your inaction so I bought it for you."

She was right, of course. I had been, for lack of a better word, lusting after this beautiful bedding set for awhile now. I had become bored with the red, and decided to change things up. Instead of the rooms color coming from the bed I wanted to keep the bed neutral and have the secondary colors come from the artwork on the walls. I had already spent an afternoon having what Emmett referred to as "a painting party", which basically boiled down to Emmett dancing around the room using a paint roller as a microphone, singing every 1980's power ballad he could think of while Rosalie and I did the serious work. The walls were now a neutral shade of beige, and every painting that littered them had some shade of red somewhere in it. All that was left was the light crème bedding.

I quickly made my way over to Alice as she pulled the old bedding off the bed. I unfolded the gorgeous sheets, and we began the final process to the room transformation.

"Thank you, Alice." I stepped back to examine our work while Alice made her way to my dresser and started rummaging through drawers. The crème comforter was just light enough against the beige wall, and made the whole room appear larger and lighter.

"It looks perfect," she said as she came to stand beside me. "And so will this." She thrust a pair of black and white ruffled boyshort panties into my hand. "You know where Edward is. Jasper and I are going hunting. Emmett and Rose will be so caught up in each other they'll hardly notice you guys, much less care."

I laughed. "They do tend to tune out the world when they get behind that door."

Alice smiled and began to walk toward the door. "Don't worry about them tonight. Just enjoy your new bedding… and your husband."

"Thank you again, Alice," I said as she stepped into the hall.

"Whoa, hold on. One more thing." She ran towards me and before I knew it pulled the shoulder of my shirt down, revealing half of my basic white bra. "No ma'am," she said. She made her way back to my dresser and retrieved a black lace bra. "Black to contrast the white in the panties, and lace to contrast the ruffles."

"And," she continued dramatically, "Since you're going to thank me again in a few seconds, I will just say you're welcome. You have about half an hour till he gets home. Jasper and I are leaving now, and Rosalie and Emmett are watching a movie… for now. Have fun!"

I watched her skip down the hall, and smiled at her exuberance. Forty years ago I would have been thoroughly embarrassed by our encounter, but Alice never let this side of her ability embarrass her so no one else did either.

_Half an hour_ I thought to myself. I no longer wanted to wait that long, but I didn't have much choice. I slipped into the garments Alice had chosen for me and pulled Carlisle's shirt back on. In the interest of passing time, and with nothing better to do, I paced.

And I paced, and I paced, and I paced some more.

I could feel the lust crawling up my spine every time I looked at the ocean of crème that now graced my bed. It looked remarkably sexy against the stark black of the headboard, with the beige wall behind it. A large silver framed mirror decorated the wall directly above the headboard, and I could see as I gazed at my reflection that my eyes were growing darker with every second.

I needed my husband _now_.

I quickly gave up on pacing and sat down on the bed, leaning against the pillows. My mind quickly began to wander as I thought about how magnificent it would feel to be nestled into our luxurious new sheets while Carlisle hovered above me, blazing a trail of fire and venom all over my body with his hands and mouth.

I heard the soft hum of the Mercedes coming up the driveway before I had time to get too carried away with my fantasy. I silently said a prayer of thanks for Carlisle's perfect time, and ran to the top of the stairs to greet him.

"I love seeing my shirts on you." His smile was wide, and his eyes visibly darkened to rusty amber pools of lust as he took in my appearance.

"Come with me." I took his hand and he fell into step behind me, pressing his body against mine from behind. He wrapped his free arm around my waist and ran his hands over the ruffles on my panties. I could feel his arousal growing as we slowly walked to the bedroom, and had to bite back a moan.

I disentangled myself from him once we were in the room and shut the door with one hand while still holding on to his with the other. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the bed.

"I see you bought the bedding you've been dying for."

"Actually Alice bought it," I said. I moved to stand in front of him and pressed myself against him, guiding his mouth to mine. The kiss was slow and languid, sensual in its tender intensity. He lifted me up into his arms and I squeaked in surprise, eliciting a smirk as he deposited me on the bed and stood back. His eyes raked over my form, burning me in the intensity of his appreciative gaze.

"So beautiful," he mumbled. He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and brought out a box of matches. It was technically still early evening, but the storm darkened the landscape considerably, casting the room in shadow. I watched as Carlisle's meticulous surgeons' fingers took infinite care in lighting each candle on the nightstand and both dressers. The room was bathed in the orange glow of firelight. He turned his gaze on me again and his eyes radiated sheer desire. The look in his eyes sent wave after wave of need coursing through my system, and the lust pooled in my abdomen, sending little shocks of desire up and down my spine.

"I take it you like the new bedding, Doctor Cullen?"

He smiled and joined me on the bed, lying down next to me and propping himself up on his elbow. He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"I love the new bedding." His hand ran down my side to the edge of my shirt and back up again. He traced the collar of the shirt and deftly loosened the top button from its slit. He placed a kiss to each piece of newly exposed skin as he unbuttoned the shirt with practiced ease.

Little bursts of electricity ran under my skin as he brushed his hands over my shoulders, pulling the shirt off and tossing it to the floor in one fluid motion.

He guided my hips closer, hitching my leg over his hip, as he peppered soft kisses over my shoulders and down my arm. His free hand roamed softly over the skin of my inner thigh, causing my mind to cloud over with pure need.

"You have far too many clothes on," I whispered. I began to unfasten each button of his shirt, letting my fingers trail over each patch of newly exposed skin. He shivered lightly as I ran my hands up his chest. He pulled me even closer to him and I moaned softly as my hips encountered his erection.

"See what you do to me," he whispered. "The effect you have on me."

I smiled and brought his lips to mine. I needed to show him with my mouth how desperately I needed him. How badly my body constantly craved his. I poured every ounce of passion I had for my husband into the kiss, letting my tongue sweep every inch of his mouth. I was determined to give him every ounce of love I was capable of.

He groaned as the kiss deepened further, and pulled me so I was on top of him, straddling his waist. I watched his eyes darken from burnt amber to onyx as I finished disrobing both of us, and slowly sank down on his length.

No amount of years would ever lessen the wonder of this for me. The way our bodies were meant to fit together this way would always amaze me.

The love between us was so raw and real in these moments when we moved together. We weren't vampires, we weren't parents, we weren't the doctor and his wife. We weren't even Carlisle and Esme. We were simply one. There was nothing outside of this embrace. Nothing existed apart from the rapid breaths, deep moans, occasional screams, and unadulterated love that grew from the act of our bodies sliding together.

I allowed myself to be lost to the sensation of his hands sliding over my ribcage as he mapped every inch of me, his face filled with his wonder at the love I gave him. He never felt like he deserved it and so I constantly strove to drown him in it.

His other hand traced small, delicate circles along my thigh as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. Every touch, every kiss, every sound drove us higher and higher until I felt my body began to explode from the pressure.

The look in my husband's eyes as he came was the thing that made eternity worth it to me. The pure need and love that radiated from his gaze was crippling in its intensity.

I shook in his arms as we both came back down from the high. He rubbed one hand up and down my back as he twined the fingers of his other hand with one of mine.

I was captivated by the sight of my small hand linked with his as I lay on top of my husband with my head on his shoulder.

We were nestled in an ocean of crème. The bedding had become tangled and at some point one pillow had ended up on the floor and another at the foot of the bed, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

It was perfect.

Our love had caused the imperfection thus making it perfect.

"Are you alright?" His voice was a hoarse whisper and I smiled at the primal sexiness of it.

"I'm perfect."

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_Reviews are loved! _


	5. An Interruption

**OMG an update after eight months!**

**If you've been with me for a while and this looks familiar it's because you've read it before. This morning I found the folder on my laptop that has all my old one-shots. I picked this one and decided to edit it a bit, add some things, and post it here. You may see some more new (but really old) one-shots from me over the next few weeks. We'll see.**

**It's really just a short drabble, but I loved going back and playing around with it, and I hope you all love the re-vamped version. **

**And now may I present some little light citrus for your Saturday evening. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners. The author of this story in no way profits from its use or distribution.**

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Carlisle sighed as he stared at his laptop screen, unable, or perhaps unwilling to concentrate. It was truly a perfect day. The rare appearance of sunshine coinciding with the weekend meant the Cullens were free to enjoy a day at home without worrying about calling in to work or school.

He closed the program, knowing he couldn't work on such a beautiful day, and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

He could hear his wife moving around downstairs.

"Esme," he whispered, knowing she would hear him. He smiled when the familiar click of her heels on the stairs signaled that she was on her way.

The study door creaked open, and Carlisle's eyes met his wife's as she stepped in the room. She smiled as she walked to where he sat, and lowered herself onto his lap without a word.

She leaned forward and kissed him passionately. It always amazed Carlisle that his wife knew exactly what he wanted all of the time.

He dragged his lips across her cheek, and trailed soft kisses down her neck and over her shoulder as she hovered above him. The chair groaned at the added weight as Esme moved to accommodate her husband's attentions. Carlisle ran his hand across her back, trailing the lightest of touches across her smooth marble skin, causing her to sigh in utter contentment.

"Are we alone?" Esme asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Emmett mentioned something about football."

Carlisle felt all the tension leave her body with the knowledge that they had the house to themselves. He took the opportunity to lift her shirt from her body while still peppering her face with soft kisses.

It was a rare thing for them to be alone in the house together. Usually it only happened on days that followed Carlisle covering someone's night shift at the hospital. Today; however, was a sunny Sunday afternoon, and all the Cullen's intended to take advantage of it.

Carlisle knew exactly how he wanted to spend this sunny day that was momentarily void of the presence of teenage vampires.

As he trailed his lips from Esme's shoulders to her collarbone and down her chest he began to work the clasp of her bra. He felt her stiffen suddenly, becoming tense and pushing back almost imperceptibly.

"What's wrong?"

"Shouldn't we close the door?"

Carlisle laughed lightly before kissing a slow path from the base of her neck to the spot just behind her ear, knowing it would be the quickest way to distract her. Esme moaned lightly and let her head fall back as Carlisle smiled against her skin, knowing her every thought of the world outside had been forgotten.

It wasn't that he wasn't concerned about the possibility of someone walking in on them. It was just that he didn't really care. They had so few moments to themselves during the day, and privacy was such a rare thing in the Cullen home to begin with that the possibility of being interrupted didn't matter all that much.

Besides, everyone had a tendency to listen carefully to the goings on in the house upon entering. Their children would know what they were up to and simply avoid the study for awhile.

It was a carefully orchestrated dance that had been practiced for decades, and was entirely unavoidable in a house full of couples.

Esme's hands began working the buttons of Carlisle's shirt – nimble fingers coaxing each button from its hole with an expertise that could only come from years of experience. Carlisle smiled and gently kissed his wife. It seemed she was now just as uncaring as she that they were exposed to the rest of the house.

Laughter permeated the air through the open window as Esme pushed her husband's pale blue shirt off his shoulders, reminding them of why they loved these sunny days so dearly. The stolen moments of intimacy were nice, but the sounds of their children enjoying the afternoon outdoors, as teenagers should, were better.

His wife kissed a path across Carlisle's collarbone and down his chest, and all thoughts of the rest of their family were forgotten. He stroked his fingers through her hair as her lips trailed a lazy path across his chest, and for a few brief moments the world outside ceased to exist.

They were both so lost in the moment that they failed to notice the sound of the front door opening, or the sound of footsteps tripping up the stairs. They remained enveloped in each other, tuning out the rest of the world, until the scent of freesia and the soft sound of a heartbeat alerted them to the presence of another.

Esme barely had time to get her shirt on before Bella appeared in the doorway holding her obviously swollen left hand in her right, and wearing a look of shock on her beet red face.

"I'm sorry," she said, obviously embarrassed.

Carlisle had to suppress the urge to laugh as Esme smiled against his shoulder. Interruptions were such a common occurrence in the Cullen household it was hard to feel anything but amused when it happened.

"What happened?" he asked as Esme slid to the floor.

"I tripped over one of the boulders by the river and landed wrong on my wrist."

"Let me go get you some ice for that, Bella, while Carlisle takes a look," Esme said, before slipping from the room.

Carlisle smiled slightly as he gestured for Bella to sit on the oversized couch. He shrugged back into his shirt, trying to pretend that his wife's bra was still behind the chair. It would only exacerbate Bella's awkwardness if he were to lead her to the desk.

Esme returned several moments later with a Ziploc bag full of ice. She handed it to Carlisle before bending to place a kiss on Bella's head and leaving the room once more.

"I'm sorry I interrupted. Emmett said you were up here working."

Carlisle smiled and shook his head, trying not to laugh. "I'm afraid my son was having a little fun at your expense. He knew exactly what we were doing."

Bella blushed bright red, and looked down. "Great," she whispered.

Carlisle lifted her hand to examine the injury. "Don't worry, Bella. Things like that happen almost every day in this house."

She shifted in her seat and Carlisle could tell she was still deeply humiliated. She was only weeks away from her own wedding, and hopefully would become a vampire soon after. She was undoubtedly thinking about the possibility of this happening again in the future.

"Is Esme embarrassed?"

"No, Bella. We're both used to being walked in on. Despite their advanced hearing, our children rarely pay attention. We knew the danger in letting the door stay open. Trust me, Bella, once you've been walked in on several times you won't be nearly as self-conscious about doing it to the rest of us."

Bella laughed and Carlisle felt some of the humiliation seep out of the room.

"This," he said, lifting her arm, "Is nothing serious. You likely just bruised the bone. Keep some ice on it for about the next hour and you'll be just fine."

"Thank you," Bella mumbled as she gathered the ice to her wrist and slipped downstairs where the rest of the family gathered.

Carlisle descended the stairs several moments later to find the rest of his children gathered in front of an early Elvis movie they had just started watching.

"So," Emmett said, from his spot beside Rosalie, "Bella finally has her first interruption story."

Carlisle sighed as he took his place on the couch beside Esme and pulled her into her arms. Emmett immediately began to regale Bella with the story of his own first interruption as the movie began to play in the background. Carlisle didn't even try to hide his smile as he thought of each of his children and of all the painfully awkward moments that had been interrupted over the years.


End file.
